The Sword of Caine
by organizzedkhaos
Summary: Damien Zeliot is a Tzimisce assasain, known as the Sword of Caine, adopting the title of his entire sect. Hunting the Camarilla in NYC, he prepares for the great Sword advance.
1. The Death of a Magi

Isaac Morgan ran through the alley way, the Tremere vampire chanting as he went. Words of power flew out of his mouth as he concentrated the best he could, calling from his memory the sword he loved so much. The Tremere blade, his trophy during the second Masassa war instantly came to hand, spent blood tolling on his already weakened form.   
  
It was a warm March night in New York City, and Isaac did not want to be out more than he had to be. Right now, however he was one the run from a member of the invading Sabbat pack who had been tracking him for nights. It had been slow at first, with the same figure appearing every night around the same time, wearing a leather trench coat and a wide brimmed hat.  
  
However, as of a few nights ago it had gotten worse, much worse. The figure was studying him, and following him back to his haven, parking just outside. The Tremere was careful, and he warded his doors at night to keep the intruder out of his home. He had wondered how long the man had been keeping with his routine, if it weren't for his minimal powers of Auspex his invasion would have gone unchecked.  
  
Isaac was now at the end of the line, reaching the end of the alley and turning to face the man who was dressed in his trench coat and wide brimmed hat. The figure was lean and tall, about 5'10 and seeming to weigh around 170 lbs. He carried a smoking Glock 17 in his right hand, having just fired it at the Tremere. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth, but he didn't take any puffs. Breathing wasn't necessary for vampires.  
  
Letting a hiss out of his mouth, Isaac prepared his blade for confrontation, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. The Sabbat vampire merely shook his head, raising his gun forward and aiming directly at Isaac's head. "Damn tower has to fall down sometime kid. Your magic won't and can't save you now."  
  
Before Isaac could respond, gunshots rang out in the alley. Two bullets promptly slammed into his head, and instantly falling to the floor the two that followed hit the brick behind him. Roaring in agony, Isaac would have caused quite a scene on an open street. However vampires don't die just that easily. Looking up with hatred in his eyes, Isaac saw his attacker through blurred vision.  
  
A scarred, ugly face awaited him, with a large scare running like a cross over his face. One cut down, one cut across. Before he could open his mouth to laugh however, tentacle slammed from the ugly man's free hand, going right through Isaac's throat. A small piece of bone waved on the other side of Isaac, and the tentacle slithered out of his neck.   
  
Bone crafted knuckles slammed into the face of Isaac, rendering the Tremere dead to the world and in a bloody pulp. Removing his head with a prompt swipe of the tentacle, he stood there for a few minutes as the body turned to dust. Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, Damien Zeliot turned and stalked out of the alley, the Tremere blade glinting in the moonlight, showing the reflection of Isaac's blood. 


	2. Preperation for Assault

A bag full of Isaac Morgan's ashes was dumped on the desk of the archbishop of the greater New Jersey area, which was under Sabbat control. Damien grinned under the shadows of his wide brimmed hat, his eyes gleaming as he watched the Archbishop nod approvingly.   
  
Archbishop Stivileti was a Lasombra, and not one to screw with. Damien however, was one of Stivileti's favorite warriors. Damien was a Templar, but he was also a Templar who got his stuff done. Many of the Templars in today's Sabbat were whiney little prisci recruits. The Archbishop nodded and folded his hands under his chin, thinking for a moment.  
  
"Excellent work my friend" the Archbishop said, thoughts still running through his head. "Are your prepared to strike at the Tremere chantry when the time is right?"  
  
"You don't always ask smart questions Archbishop, you know the answer."  
  
"I do, don't I. Your tongue is going to get you in trouble one of these days Zeliot" the Lasombra said matter-of-factly. Stivileti was a rather imposing figure at 6'3, and was regale and impressive, an Italian of good appearance with long flowing black hair and a business suit always on.  
  
"Not as long as you have Camarilla you need to kill."  
  
"Okay, your smarter than you look. Do me a favor Zeliot, we need some intelligence on this Tremere chantry. If we wipe out the Tremere Chantry in one decisive strike, the rest will follow. However we can't afford the casualties if one of my other underlings fucks it up big time so I'm sending you in alone for this one. I just pray it will be enough."  
  
"You'll have your information Archbishop Stivileti."   
  
With that, Damien stalked out of his office. The Lasombra owned a major law firm in Southern New Jersey and Damien came into a slightly colder March evening. It had been day since Isaac had been made dust, and The Tzimisce was proud of his achievement.  
  
The Tremere Chantry he needed to nix was in Newark, which wasn't all that far away. He could make it there in a few hours drive if he went slow, and it wasn't going to be a huge issue for him to get some intelligence done before the night is through. If the vampires got a hold of the Chantry they would be able to springboard a launch into New York City.  
  
With Damien thinning out the Camarilla vampire population there, the Camarilla would be running around like dogs looking for men in their own domain who were offing their vampires. This left Newark open to attack, what Camarilla were there. Plus the fewer Camarilla vampires in NYC the better. Hopping in his 88 Cougar, which was all nice and redone, painted black, Damien made his way onto the highway.  
  
Arriving in Newark sometime near midnight, the moonlight shone on him as he exited his vehicle, checking into a cheap motel in this decadent city so he wouldn't have to waste gas money for a four hour drive every evening. Plus he didn't want to waste that precious time.  
  
The Chantry was just a few blocks down, and wasn't supposed to be that great of a Chantry anyway. Damien's clan and the Tremere have had a feud that goes back even to the Dark Ages, and Damien was damn proud of it. The Tremere had managed to survive winning is something the Tzimisce would never let them have.  
  
Damien adjusted his leather attire as he strode up the few city blocks it was to get to the Chantry. The place was a small bookstore, which had two guys pretending to read comic books standing outside. He could tell from their auras both were ghouls, evoking the powers of Auspex. They were keeping tabs on the place most likely. He could see behind the door the face of a stone gargoyle, which startled him as odd because it had a pale aura.   
  
This wasn't going to be easy Damien thought, the store closed in thirty minutes, he would have that long to prepare. Sending back some images with his camera phone, he hoped he wasn't attracting any attention to himself. He was going to have to find a way to do this on his own. 


End file.
